


instead of a million count half a dozen

by purrfectj



Series: resign yourself to the influence of the earth [6]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game), Walden - Henry David Thoreau
Genre: Gen, Puppy Love, bathtime, lonely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 11:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6608737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purrfectj/pseuds/purrfectj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marnie finds a lost dog. Tess falls in love. There are baby chicks and Shane.</p>
<p>This is part 6 of a many-part series exploring Stardew Valley, its inhabitants, and its newest addition, a female farmer named Tess. It's written in present tense and is rooted in my love for the farm where I grew up and my lifelong love affair with Henry David Thoreau's Walden: Or, Life in the Woods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	instead of a million count half a dozen

She names the dog Link because he is brave and bold and handsome, his long, thick tail thumping fast and happy on her porch when Marnie tells her she found him sitting, just waiting, waiting as he’s doing now, politely, to be asked inside. He is a bigger dog than she would normally gravitate toward, a true golden retriever with sunshine fur, lean muscles, and big, dark eyes, and when she steps back, he nudges at her bare legs with his cold wet nose and then goes streaking past her, flopping down with a huge doggy sigh on the faded hooked rug by her bed. 

“Well, I guess he’s staying then.” Marnie says it cautiously, her hazel eyes still wary of the newcomer, and Tess knows it’s well-deserved wariness, Marnie has caught her more than once mooing at the cows in the pen by the ranch, body poised to actually climb over and hug one of the huge, docile creatures and even though she’s explained several times that she has a degree in animal science and adores animals of all shapes and sizes, Marnie is more protective of her animals than she is of her niece, Jas. 

“He is staying.” Tess repeats it firmly, already moving away from the door to the dog who blinks lazily at her, his mouth opening in a big doggy grin when she sinks down next to him and buries her rough, nicked and bandaged hands in his fur, rubbing and stroking and picking out burrs and off ticks. She is unaware she is crooning the whole time, crooning nonsense and baby babble and telling him whose a good dog, is it you, yes it is, such a good boy, so smart and gorgeous and wonderful, yes you are. 

The screen door slaps shut but neither Link, drowsy and content, nor Tess, in the fierce tight grip of puppy love, of not being alone, notice as Marnie clomps down the stairs. 

He does not like the idea of a bath. He plops his butt down in defiance, tilting his head as if to ask her if she’s crazy when she slips into the cool, murky water of the northern pond, making come hither motions with her fingers, slapping the water invitingly, trying not to shiver in the thin tank and cutoffs because the freaking water is cold even as it only reaches her knees, not yet enough spring sun to make it warm. “Fucking hell,” she grumbles and is crawling out in preparation of wrestling him in when he barks once, deep in his chest, and then sails over her head, landing with a loud explosive splash behind her. She is immediately drenched, braided hair to squishy mud toes, and this is how Shane, who’s been sent by Marnie on some fool’s errand to bring baby chicks to a woman who hasn’t even fixed the hole in her roof according to town gossip, finds her: soaking wet, bedraggled, her tank see-through, and laughing as she soaps up the dog who whoofs in friendly warning and slaps her with his flagship tail. 

“Marnie said you needed some chickens.” She raises her eyebrows at the man’s curt tone, at his unshaven face and bloodshot eyes, and dumps more soap on Link because if she doesn’t she will snatch the box of cheeping, scrabbling chicks from rude Shane’s slightly shaking hands. _Her chickens, her dog, her farm_ , out, out, out! 

Possession is nine-tenths of the law and Tess revels in it, revels in the dog who sprawls out in the sun on the porch, agreeing that yes, of course he’ll lie on the rug from inside so he doesn’t get dirty again but you do know I’m going to go roll around in the grass as soon as I’m almost dry, right, revels in the peeping baby chicks who are soft and fluffy and unafraid, pecking at her fingers as she rigs a place in the corner of the kitchen for them, a heat lamp that she digs out of storage and scares away a spider when it clicks on. The chicks immediately stop crying for their mother and fall asleep in a heap and Link somehow uses his brute strength to push open the screen door and this time when he curls up it’s next to the box of sleeping babies as if to say, ‘Well, then, go on. A coop won’t build itself and you’re useless with a hammer.’ 

She is, she really is unless she’s singing into it, so she changes into mostly clean jeans and a t-shirt and bikes up the mountain. Robin claps her hands together in glee when she explains she needs a chicken coop and a silo, giggles when Tess explains she has more than enough wood for both projects, winces when she has to tell Tess how much building both will cost. Tess, however, agrees to the amount without blinking because she stocked up on peanut butter and jelly just last week and now she has strawberries and wild spring onions and dandelions and leeks to make salad and to sell because she’s never not stopped to investigate along the roadside even when she has an important errand. 

Oh, but she’ll need dog food. 

Link turns his nose up at the organic wet food from Pierre’s but he gobbles up the dry cheap kibble from Joja Mart. His fur is soft as silk under her fingers as she leans against him, feeling him breathe as they both watch the chicks scramble in the box for the little bit of dried corn she brought them. One of them, the smallest, pecks at the box near Tess’s knee until Tess dips a fingertip in and rubs over its head. It immediately chirps happily and Tess’s heart feels like it’s seven sizes too large for her chest. 

She names the chicks Larry, Moe, Curly, and Shep, and both she and Link fall asleep in the corner of the kitchen, wrapped around each other and the battered box filled with life and trust from Marnie’s ranch. 


End file.
